


Greedy Things

by Barkour



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon - Manga, Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, F/M, Female Character of Color, POV Character of Color, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The greedy thing inside young master smiled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greedy Things

"Young master."

She dropped beside him on the jutting length of stone. Far below, the city glimmered.

He considered her over his shoulder, his legs half-folded before him, his gaze too direct, the line of his mouth quirked to show his teeth. His back was a slow curve, thick where it ended.

The greedy thing inside young master smiled.

Lanfan shifted her weight, just so, to bring her arm forward. The weight of the blade pulled at her elbow.

His smile widened. Her mask lay heavy on her face.

"You're looking for the kid?" said Greed. "Sorry, he's sleeping."

"Then I will wait," said Lanfan, crouched beside him.

"Gonna be a while," said Greed. His teeth flashed again, sharp and white. "Young master's having a real good dream."

"I will wait," said Lanfan.

Greed shrugged and spread out his hands. The tattoo showed dark on the back of young master's hand, the serpent devouring its tail across the tendons, the breadth of skin. His shoulders slackened. He settled.

Lanfan waited, her weight balanced on her toes, her legs still beneath her. Out across the city, in the dark, the lights shone bright and plentiful. Amestris was lit even at the latest hours of the night. She wondered how the people slept.

"I could take a message," said Greed.

"That won't be necessary, homunculus," said Lanfan. "I would speak with young master himself."

Greed looked away, out over the city. He scratched at his neck.

"Just thought I'd ask," said Greed.

She said nothing. He leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, and rested his chin in his palm, and Lanfan saw young master in this: in the lazy set of his shoulders, the angle of his head, his long fingers cradling his jaw.

What would Grandfather say? To know she could not always tell if the man whose back she watched was young master or the greedy one who wore his skin.

Her left thigh trembled. She stilled it.

"I don't understand you humans," said Greed. He looked down at the city, his fingers tapping at his cheek. "You know what you want, but you won't take it. No wonder you guys are always killing each other. You must be really frustrated, huh?"

Lanfan did not speak.

"Take," said Greed, as easily as if they were friends, "just as an example, yourself. You can't tell me there's nothing you want."

"I wish for young master to raise his clan to honor and glory," said Lanfan. "I wish for young master to be made emperor of Xing."

"Sure," said Greed, still so easy, "of course you do. Who doesn't? But I wanna know, what do _you_ want?"

Beneath her mask, Lanfan was still.

He grinned at her, sharp teeth and thin lips, young master's face and another's tongue.

"I know what you want," said Greed.

"Be quiet, homunculus," said Lanfan.

Greed's smile lengthened. His eyes gleamed, red in the light of the city.

"Betcha don't know what Ling wants," he said.

"That name is not yours to say," said Lanfan.

He gestured to his chest, then down. "My body, my rules."

"His is not yours to take," said Lanfan.

He did not blink, but nor did he stop smiling. Instead he tipped his (young master's) head to the side and reached out his hand to touch, gently, the point of her mask over her chin. His smile softened. He tapped his nail on the mask.

"Ain't that a shame," said Greed, so low, and Lanfan pulled away. Her heel thumped against the stone.

"Hey," he said, "would you like to know what I want?"

"Nothing in which there is honor," whispered Lanfan, because— because she could not strike him.

He smiled at her again, a slow, satisfied smile, like young master but not young master. He stretched his hand out again, to rest it on her arm where the metal joint was tensed. Her shoulder ached. Her chest ached, too tight.

"Next time you come out," murmured Greed, "why don't you call my name instead?"

She could not move with his hand there on her arm, a restraint, unintended, as much as an invitation.

"I will do no such thing," said Lanfan, her breath a swollen thing in her throat, "homunculus."

Greed ran his fingers down her arm, the tattoo flashing as he turned his hand over her wrist.

"There's no such thing as no such thing," he said. He took his hand away.

Lanfan dropped from the ledge to the next below, the ribbon of her mask fluttering behind her. What would Grandfather say? It did not matter. Coward, she thought, but she did not turn around. The mask was hot on her face, her arm a weight pulling her back. She did not turn around.

He did not follow.


End file.
